Focus

I would love to give meaning to the three photos above and why I chose them as openers in this personal post, but I believe I would have to resort to extreme explanations before you finally get the whole point of the photos. But trust me, none of the elements are mere coincidences. Although I have decided against body vandalism since the sixth grade, I think there could not be any better way of illustrating what I felt than media closest and most familiar to the involved. Should I elaborate further? I don't think I should.

This post is about focus. Not focus in photography, although it may also be applicable, but focus in real life or what we choose to see or look at in moments that require us to choose our perspectives. To tell you why I think I should blog about it, I challenge you to look at the photos again and decode what I'm pointing at.

Exactly what I'm trying to say. I have this dangerous tendency to look only at what is in front of me and not what is beyond or around it. Yesh, much like my eyes. If you ask me to take my eyeglasses off, that is particularly what I would see - a myopic view of the world, focusing only on what I can clearly see in a three-meter radius. In simple terms, it's focusing on details and failing to see the bigger picture.

Now, how is it so important that it deserves a spot here? Well, it's been affecting my life in a negative way. You see, for the past few months, I've been struggling with the what ifs and the should haves - things that I really have no control over. They do happen, right in front of me, that sometimes, I just don't understand why they have to when I'm there. It's like being part of the scene as an onlooker and not as a direct part of it when I once was. And that broke my heart and tore my spirit entirely that I did everything I can to prevent what we had from breaking apart. Yet what I failed to see is that my own efforts are what actually led to its breaking apart. I was too afraid of losing it that I lost it because of fear. I was too afraid to displease her that I did displease her with my fear. I was too afraid of being second-rate that I became second-rate, still clinging to the fear.

And it's all because of failure to perceive reality. It's because of creating my own reality that I had to drag my relationships into so I could be satisfied. Anything that goes wrong, according to my perfect (or so I thought) plan - even the simplest and smallest detail - can send me rolling down in an abyss of nothingness, until something or someone brings me up again, without realizing that I would soon be continuing the endless cycle. 

I was afraid of so many things because I didn't see that there was more than what's in front of me. If I may sing a few lines then let me; "Too long I've been afraid of losing love I guess I've lost... Well, if that's love It comes at much too high a cost!" Maybe that's exactly what happened. What I failed to see, though, was that love doesn't really come at such high costs. It's something that's there that you don't keep chasing lest you lose it by holding on too tight. What I needed was a huge reality check that I only got when it was already too late. Is it really? I hope it isn't, because it was something that used to be so beautiful. Before it was obsessive, it was something that I reckoned I would cherish as a memory, not as a focus. And I don't think I could now, now that everything that I used to be to her has been broken by my own eager efforts. I wish I could be enlightened about what I could tell her to patch things up and to ensure that we start the year on a new chapter, and not be stuck in the chaotic and dramatic chapter that was. We could never go back to His and Hellos without thinking of everything that had happened in the back of our minds, but I just wish I could tell her how sorry I am for losing touch of reality and having dragged her into my fictional world of altered perceptions. I don't think we could start all over again, but maybe we could start somewhere with the lessons that we learned from what happened. 

Should I even try? Of course, I should. Not by clinging or holding on too tightly, but by slowly letting go while treasuring every moment as if it were the last. My letter should be out of the box soon. I honestly don't know what I should tell her, but I don't think there's a should in telling someone how you feel, and that's exactly what I would try to do. It will take me some guts and pride, but I think it's all going to be worth it. To maturity and beyond!